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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27124862">spark</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/suzukiblu/pseuds/suzukiblu'>suzukiblu</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>push and pull [3]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Avatar: The Last Airbender</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Adoption, Alternate Timelines, Alternate Universe, Childhood, Family, Firebending &amp; Firebenders, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Not Canon Compliant - The Legend of Korra, Not Compliant with Avatar Comics, Pre-Canon</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-10-20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-10-20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 18:48:34</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>3,446</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27124862</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/suzukiblu/pseuds/suzukiblu</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Ozai and Iroh come home and Zolena throws herself at Iroh, her eyes wide and <i>frightened</i> and Lu Ten pulled along after her, kept close to her side.</p>
<p>“Ursa still isn’t back,” she says, and Ozai goes completely still. Ursa isn’t back?</p>
<p>Ursa isn’t supposed to be <i>gone</i>.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Iroh &amp; Lu Ten, Iroh &amp; Ozai (Avatar), Lu Ten &amp; Mai, Mai &amp; Ozai (Avatar)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>push and pull [3]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1830643</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>47</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>737</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>spark</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>The last of the prequel-bits. I added more to this one because the Fire Nation backstory was just not that fleshed out compared to the Water Tribe’s, imo, so it’s a mix of very old writing and very new. It’s still shorter than the last installment, but I do think it’s improved from its original form; hopefully it all makes sense for you guys. </p>
<p>After this: season one! I’ll probably split that up into individual chapters and upload it a bit at a time so I can get it up faster, knock wood.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“What?” Ursa says numbly, staring at the cup of sweet, fragrant tea sitting in front of her. Li and Lo sit across the table, their expressions not unkind but not merciful, either.</p>
<p>“These are the Fire Lord’s orders, girl,” Lo tells her matter-of-factly, hands folded in her sleeves. Ursa thinks <i>Lo is the one who makes the poisons</i>.</p>
<p>“That husband of yours, he’s too ambitious,” Li agrees in the same firm tone, her posture mirroring her sister’s. Ursa thinks <i>Li is the one who makes the medicines</i>.</p>
<p>“He shouldn’t be allowed an heir,” Lo finishes, and Ursa just keeps staring at the tea and her mind, her mind is <i>afire</i>, her mind is—Lo makes the poisons Li makes the medicines Lo makes the poisons Li makes the medicines Lo makes the poisons Li makes the medicines which one of them made this TEA?! </p>
<p>“I see,” she says, slowly, and reaches for the teacup, cradling the delicate porcelain in both hands. It’s her favorite one, the pretty one-of-a-kind one that Ozai gave her as a courting gift, the one they drank sake out of the night of their wedding and the night they conceived the baby not even yet visible inside her flat belly and many other nights, too. It hasn’t been taken out in over a month, because Ozai is not in the Fire Nation right now.</p>
<p>Ozai is far, far from the Fire Nation right now. Ozai is <i>South</i>.</p>
<p>Ursa’s hands heat, and the tea comes to a gentle simmer. </p>
<p>It isn’t enough warning to save Lo and Li from having a boiling abortive splashed into their eyes or the table slammed forward <i>hard</i> into the soft meat of their stomachs. Ursa leaps across the room towards the balcony, the sound of her footsteps and the breaking lock of the balcony door where her foot hits it drowned out by twin screams of pain, and as she jumps over the railing all she can think is <i>Ozai</i> and <i>far, far from the Fire Nation</i>.</p>
<p>.</p>
<p>.</p>
<p>.</p>
<p>Ozai and Iroh come home and Zolena throws herself at Iroh, her eyes wide and <i>frightened</i> and Lu Ten pulled along after her, kept close to her side.</p>
<p>“Ursa still isn’t back,” she says, and Ozai goes completely still. Ursa isn’t back?</p>
<p>Ursa isn’t supposed to be <i>gone</i>. </p>
<p>“What are you talking about, my dear?” Iroh says in confusion, gripping her arms, and Zolena pulls Lu Ten tighter against her side and presses into her husband’s hands.</p>
<p>“Ursa is <i>gone</i>,” she says again, the desperation in her expression unseemly for a princess to wear and a note of hysteria in the words this time. “They said she went to the hot springs but that was two <i>months</i> ago, Iroh, didn’t you get my <i>letters</i>? Something’s wrong, some strange woman replaced Lo and Li as Lu Ten’s nanny out of nowhere and Ursa <i>hates</i> going to the hot springs alone and the Fire Lord won’t even take my <i>audience</i>—”</p>
<p>“Zolena, surely it’s just—” Iroh starts, but Ozai is already a blur down the hall.</p>
<p>.</p>
<p>.</p>
<p>.</p>
<p>“She packed up in the night and left you,” Lo says from behind the veil she won’t remove. She’s moving too carefully, as if her body is sore or she can’t see quite as well as she used to be able to, and Li’s doing just the same. “Your father wished to spare you the rumors as long as he could.”</p>
<p>Ozai says nothing, and thinks, <i>she would NEVER</i>.</p>
<p>He leaves the palace.</p>
<p>He thinks of Ursa.</p>
<p>His footsteps <i>smolder</i>. </p>
<p>.</p>
<p>.</p>
<p>.</p>
<p>Ozai is not a man easily deterred. </p>
<p>He is also not a man who likes being denied. </p>
<p>The problem with finding Ursa is that Ursa might not <i>want</i> found. Ozai thinks of a thousand reasons she might have left him and a thousand reasons his father would lie to him and ten thousand reasons that she’ll be around the next corner he turns, but none of it comes to anything. He finds nothing. No trace of her at all. </p>
<p>He combs the damn <i>nation</i>, and there’s nothing. No hint of her. No rumors, no stories, no sightings. </p>
<p>Of course there’s not. Ursa is very good at disappearing. </p>
<p>If she disappeared willingly, that is. </p>
<p>Ozai burns with barely-contained fury, and no one tells him a single damn thing of use. He knows his father knows something; knows Li and Lo likely do too. He also knows just how impossible getting information out of any of them would be. </p>
<p>Iroh’s useless. Zolena’s clueless. Lu Ten’s a child. Neither of Ursa’s handmaidens can tell him anything, and if there’s another servant or vassal who might know anything, he doesn’t know who they could possibly be. He terrifies more than a few of them with his questioning, but it gets him nothing. </p>
<p>Somehow, his pregnant wife has vanished from the middle of the palace and no one knows anything about it. </p>
<p>.</p>
<p>.</p>
<p>.</p>
<p>Ozai has been from one end of the Fire Nation to the other and is spending the night in the home of a pair of lesser nobles who are clearly down on their luck and trying desperately to pretend they’re not. Their guest room is far less comfortable than what he’s used to, but he doesn’t care about that. All he cares about is Ursa, gone from him, and the heir he’s been denied. </p>
<p>She’s hiding. She must be. He can’t believe anyone else could’ve made her disappear so completely. </p>
<p>Or she’s dead. </p>
<p>She’s hiding, or she’s dead. </p>
<p>She’s . . . </p>
<p>He grits his teeth, and fire licks at his fists. He thinks about burning this room down. He thinks about burning this whole <i>house</i> down. He thinks—</p>
<p>A woman screams. It’s distant, but unmistakable. Ozai . . . pauses. There’s no reason anyone should be screaming here. They’re nowhere near a battlefield or anything dangerous, and everything in this house is soft and frivolous and gaudy, including the people. </p>
<p>He almost thinks he imagined it, but he’s not a man prone towards imagining things. </p>
<p>He steps out into the hall. The scream came from . . . the northeast, he believes, so . . . </p>
<p>It takes some wandering through the halls, but he simply walks like he knows where he’s going and the servants all skirt by him nervously, none of them wanting to get in his way. Good. He’s not interested in dealing with them. </p>
<p>The woman screams again. No one else seems concerned. Ozai isn’t sure if he should be either, but all the same he follows the sound of her voice. It’s less concern for the woman herself and more paranoia about just what’s causing the screaming, but that doesn’t much matter. </p>
<p>He makes it a few halls over, and finds the nobleman who owns the estate looking anxious and pacing back and forth. There’s no sign of his wife, making this the first time Ozai’s seen them apart. </p>
<p>“What’s going on?” he asks, a little irritated. He has more important things to worry about than some random woman’s screaming. </p>
<p>“Your Highness!” The man jumps in surprise, clearly not having noticed his approach. Ozai is unimpressed. “Er—I’m sorry, what?” </p>
<p>“What’s going on,” Ozai repeats flatly, as a man neither inclined towards nor used to repeating himself. The nobleman opens his mouth, and the woman screams from down the hall. Ozai looks towards it. It just looks like an ordinary hallway, leading to whatever rooms it might lead to. </p>
<p>“My wife is in labor, Your Highness,” the nobleman says, wringing his hands, and Ozai . . . pauses. </p>
<p>He’d barely noticed she was pregnant, with everything else. Enough for a flash of bitterness to pass through him, but not enough for anything else. </p>
<p>“Hm,” he says, and an oddly complete thought blooms in his mind, delivered as neat and convenient as a coincidence. </p>
<p>These nobles really are down on their luck. </p>
<p>.</p>
<p>.</p>
<p>.</p>
<p>The girl is not Ozai’s blood. Azulon knows this immediately—she is too young to be the child Ursa ran away pregnant with; at least six months so, if not even more than that. Ozai states her age as what that child’s would’ve been, though, as if she is not barely more than a newborn curl in the crook of his armored arm. </p>
<p>At least, Azulon is <i>almost</i> certain she is not Ozai’s blood. It’s possible the timing was just that unlucky, that his son’s recently kept a mistress somewhere out of the way—he hasn’t been paying attention to the boy like that, not since he was wed. Only a legitimate heir could be a problem, after all. </p>
<p>Except if Ozai’s wife “left” him . . . well, then an illegitimate heir would be allowed. There’s precedence for that. </p>
<p>And there is still the faint, faint possibility that perhaps Ozai <i>did</i> find Ursa as he says he did, and she told him why she ran. Even if the child is not theirs, there is still that chance.</p>
<p>He considers the child, once, after having Li and Lo bring it to him on his throne. It is a quiet infant, big for its age but otherwise unremarkable, and nothing about it speaks of anything impressive.</p>
<p>It doesn’t look even slightly like Ozai or Ursa.</p>
<p>Eventually, there is a report that Ozai spent some time with one of the minor noble couples, ones who’ve recently lost a child, and a missing sum of money from Ozai’s private funds that shows up spread throughout those minor nobles’ accounts. </p>
<p>Azulon decides to leave the child alive, knowing he can reveal the lie of its parentage if Ozai ever gets ideas about his position. In the meantime, it should keep the boy busy. </p>
<p>In the end she doesn't even turn out to be a firebender, so that solves everything anyway.</p>
<p>.</p>
<p>.</p>
<p>.</p>
<p>Ozai took the infant and left behind quite a lot of money and the promise of certain favors, and hasn’t thought about it since. It’s still much too young to be of any interest—he’ll check back in when it’s time for its firebending training to start. He has other concerns and other things to do <i>(he doesn’t want the reminder of what has been lost to him)</i>. </p>
<p>“She isn’t a firebender,” Lo says, and Ozai pauses mid-sip of his tea, then lowers the cup and turns a blank expression on the woman, who just barely winces. </p>
<p>“Our condolences, Prince Ozai,” Li puts in quickly with a contrite bow. Ozai’s eyes narrow. The infant—a child, he corrects himself mentally—the child stares up at him from between Lo and Li, its own expression as blank as his own and its small dull eyes fixed on his face. Amber, not gold, and a murky amber at that. Big ears, and a too-long nose, and awkwardly tall for its age . . . what is it now, three? Four? Awkward, anyway. </p>
<p>Her.</p>
<p>It’s a her. </p>
<p>Ozai hadn’t specifically wanted a daughter; the child was just conveniently born while he was there, and the family’s status had sunk low enough in recent years that the pregnancy hadn’t been much talked of—they had the bloodlines and the lands, certainly, but not the money. He’d assumed it was a mercy from the spirits at the time, so he’d taken it and taken it back to the city and declared it his and Ursa’s, and no one had doubted his word as prince and it had never occurred to him that the child might not be a firebender. Why <i>wouldn’t</i> she be? </p>
<p>But apparently, she’s not. </p>
<p>“Prince Ozai?” Lo says hesitantly, and he realizes he’s been silent too long, staring down at the child as it in turn stares up at him. He blinks, once, and finishes his tea.</p>
<p>“Leave us,” he orders shortly, then sets aside his cup and gets up to leave the room. There is nervous old-woman whispering behind him, and then belatedly small, clumsy footsteps scurry after him. The child catches up, more or less, but she has to keep putting on little bursts of speed to match his long strides. He allows the racket, if only because it saves time, and because she wasn’t the one whispering. At this age, he’d rather a child who knows to keep its tongue than one with a soft step. </p>
<p>It takes him a moment to remember the way to the palace armory. Ursa went to it, sometimes, but he’d never had cause to. She’s always liked the pretty sharp things, as much as any woman of noble birth can, but Ozai has personally never seen the point. She’s just—</p>
<p>He crushes the thought, and opens the armory door. The child stays three steps behind him, which is an appropriate enough distance to work with.</p>
<p>
  <i>(Ursa had liked the pretty sharp things</i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>pretty sharp things pretty sharp pretty sharpsharpsharp</i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>click</i>
</p>
<p><i>her separating swords—)</i> </p>
<p>“A blade,” he tells the child flatly as he sweeps into the armory, and she stares up at him as she follows. “Dao blades, to start. We’ll see what best suits you from there.”</p>
<p>“Yes, Father,” she says quietly, and he stops in his tracks at the sound of the word and just <i>looks</i> at her. That . . . that isn’t . . . “Father?” the girl asks, hesitating, and he remembers what he named her without precisely meaning to. </p>
<p>“The quartermaster will train you,” Ozai says abruptly, still just looking at her, and the dull amber eyes dim a little further. And then, much more abruptly and for no properly justifiable reason, he continues—“From now on, you will take your evening meal when I take mine. I will expect a daily report on your progress.” </p>
<p>The eyes, for a moment, don’t look dull at all.</p>
<p>“<i>Yes</i>, Father,” Azula says. </p>
<p>.</p>
<p>.</p>
<p>.</p>
<p>Azula's father doesn't love her.</p>
<p>Not to say that he dislikes her—he dislikes that she isn't a firebender, he dislikes her lack of ambition, but he doesn't dislike <i>her</i>. </p>
<p>He just doesn't love her. Not like Uncle loves Lu Ten. Not like Grandfather loves Uncle. </p>
<p>Not like Father loves Mother whose portrait still hangs in the chambers he once shared with her; not like he loves Mother who he has still not replaced with a new wife even though she died years and years ago now, giving birth to Azula. Which, Azula assumes, is why Father doesn't love her. </p>
<p>She can't particularly blame him. The way Uncle Iroh and Lu Ten talk about Mother, she must've been <i>wonderful</i>. Certainly more wonderful than an awkward-looking little girl who can't even firebend. </p>
<p>She'd feel cheated too, if she were Father.</p>
<p>.</p>
<p>.</p>
<p>.</p>
<p>Lu Ten doesn’t like eating with the family since the quartermaster started teaching Azula how to throw knives. Mostly because Azula doesn’t seem to realize there’s a difference between throwing knives and chopsticks, and Uncle doesn’t seem inclined to correct the misassumption. Grandfather doesn’t seem to care either, although he did smirk in faint amusement last week when Azula pinned a beetlefly that was hovering over his head to the wall before he got around to incinerating it. Usually he ignores Azula, worse than even Uncle does, but Lu Ten guesses he thought that was funny or something. </p>
<p>Really, he’d rather just eat with Father. They do almost all the talking anyway—Grandfather mostly just listens, and Uncle just says snide things every now and then, and Azula never says anything at all. It makes him miss Mother, because at least that was one more person to talk to, but she’s not feeling well lately and she had to go south for her health. Father said they could go see her soon, and Lu Ten really wishes “soon” would hurry up and come already. He misses her. </p>
<p>And he <i>really</i> misses not having to dodge Azula’s chopsticks every other course. He doesn’t know how hard she throws them that they actually stick in the wall, and he doesn’t want to find out.</p>
<p>.</p>
<p>.</p>
<p>.</p>
<p>“I can’t believe you talked me into this,” Ozai mutters, turning his face away from the sight of the children fiddling with their chosen instruments, and his <i>idiot</i> brother laughs heartily and claps a broad, heavy hand on his shoulder.</p>
<p>“Now, now, brother, it is good for the children’s spirits! Lu Ten has always enjoyed Music Night, and I am certain my dear niece will feel the same fondness for a fine tune well-played!” he says gamely, grinning at the motley display of remaining instruments spread out on the low table before them. “Myself, I believe I will take the sunghi horn tonight—the flute, perhaps, for you?” Ozai just <i>stares</i> at him. </p>
<p><i>This</i> is the heir to the throne of their nation.</p>
<p>“The piccolo?” Iroh suggests, his face the very portrait of innocence, and Ozai debates the merits of fratricide for not the first time. Azula looks over her small whistle with narrowed eyes, then proceeds to stab Lu Ten with it in the soft inside of his elbow where his armor doesn’t quite cover. </p>
<p>“<i>Ow</i>! Azula, what the heck?!” Lu Ten yelps, narrowly dodging a second stab. Azula doesn’t answer, wearing a frown of deep-set concentration and then proceeding to drop into a quick crouch and go for the back of his knees. Watching Iroh’s pride and joy get knocked on his ass by a little girl half his height, Ozai suddenly feels oddly mollified.</p>
<p>“You know, I think I <i>will</i> take the flute, brother,” he decides mildly, smirking to himself.</p>
<p>.</p>
<p>.</p>
<p>.</p>
<p>Ozai doesn’t spend much time with Azula. Iroh’s refrained from commenting, and he’s too busy with Lu Ten to worry too much about it, but every now and then he sees her little shape in some out-of-the-way corner and it does occur to him. </p>
<p>“Azula, my dear,” he says to her one of those now and thens, and Azula gives him a blank look. “Would you like to have lunch with us today?” </p>
<p>“That sounds boring,” Azula says. And, well . . . she’s certainly Ozai’s child, isn’t she. She doesn’t take after Ursa at all, in fact. </p>
<p>“Spending time with one’s family is never boring,” Iroh says. Azula gives him an incredulous look, clearly unconvinced. Since he’s seen Azula bored in the middle of literal disasters, perhaps that wasn’t the best tack to take. “It doesn’t need to be, rather,” he tries instead. “Lu Ten and I would be delighted to spend time with you.” </p>
<p>“I’m going to go practice now,” Azula says, and leaves without saying goodbye. Iroh sighs. He does <i>try</i>, but . . . </p>
<p>Yes. Certainly nothing like her mother at all. </p>
<p>.</p>
<p>.</p>
<p>.</p>
<p>“You’re kidding,” Lu Ten says incredulously, looking up from his packing and pausing in the middle of jamming a scroll into his trunk. “You want me to take <i>Azula</i> on a <i>dragon hunt</i>?” </p>
<p>“Well, it’s not as if you’re going to be finding any dragons,” Iroh says reasonably. It’s just a rite of passage; a relic of a different age. No one really brings back a dragon anymore, they just bring back the first creature of interest. Admittedly for royalty the standards for “creature of interest” are higher, but all the same. </p>
<p>“I’d be better off <i>with</i> the dragons!” Lu Ten says. </p>
<p>“Now, son, she is your cousin,” Iroh says. “You know she’s stifled in the palace. She could use a little glimpse of the outside world.” </p>
<p>“She’s <i>contained</i> in the palace,” Lu Ten stresses. “You seriously want <i>Uncle’s</i> daughter out in the world? The world’s not going to survive it!” </p>
<p>“I’m sure you can minimize the damage,” Iroh says delicately, and Lu Ten gives him a horrified look. </p>
<p><i>“Father,”</i> he says. </p>
<p>“Son,” Iroh says mildly. </p>
<p>“I’m a firebender, not a miracle worker!” Lu Ten says. “She’s going to stab me!” </p>
<p>“I’m sure you’ll be fine.” </p>
<p>“You’d be the only one!” </p>
<p>“Lu Ten,” Iroh says, walking over to him and reaching out to squeeze his shoulder with a smile. “You are a fine young man, and this hunt will prove it to our people beyond a shadow of a doubt. I am sure you’ll do wonderfully.” </p>
<p>“Fine,” Lu Ten grumbles, folding his arms. “I’ll take her. But when she gets me into an Agni Kai with somebody, I’m sending you an ‘I told you so’.” </p>
<p>“. . . I’m <i>almost</i> sure that won’t happen. Again.” </p>
<p>.</p>
<p>.</p>
<p>.</p>
<p>Knife.</p>
<p>Impact.</p>
<p>Knife.</p>
<p>Impact.</p>
<p>Knife—</p>
<p>"Azula?"</p>
<p><i>—impact.</i> </p>
<p>"What?" Azula asks tonelessly, eyes never leaving her dartboard as she draws the next knife.</p>
<p>"Okay, that's enough training for one lifetime. We are <i>so</i> hitting land," Lu Ten says firmly, grabbing her wrist to stop the throw and giving her a wry look. He thinks she's being too serious, like always. She thinks he’s being an idiot, like always. "We can go shopping. Doesn't shopping sound fun? I bet we can find you a pretty . . . uh . . ." </p>
<p>"Go on, Cousin, finish the sentence," Azula replies, giving him a dry look. She'd <i>love</i> to hear him try.</p>
<p>". . . pretty kunai?" </p>
<p>". . . fine."</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>
  <a href="http://suzukiblu.tumblr.com/">Tumblr!</a>
</p></blockquote></div></div>
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